


There was a hurricane...

by QueenoftheNile



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander is scare of the storm, Alternate Universe - College/University, Hurricane, Hurt/Comfort, Lams - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 22:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6828133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheNile/pseuds/QueenoftheNile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex disappeared, and this damned weather is making John nervous...</p>
            </blockquote>





	There was a hurricane...

John Laurens hadn't ever drank before. Being the youngest of his friend group (if only by months) he had never been able to. It was his 21st birthday though, how could he not? 

And, to be fair, his friends made a pretty convincing argument. In fact, to quote his good friend Gilbert du Motier Marquis De Lafayette, “Don't be a, how you say, stick in the ass! Wait that's not right…”

The gist was pretty clear though. So he ended up going to a local bar, with his good friends, Hercules Mulligan, Alexander Hamilton, and, naturally, Gilbert.

Simply had to be rotten weather though; gray clouds hung low, precipitation heavy in the air.

Hamilton, he knew from experience, had to have a cutoff point, so they elected someone had to stay sober enough to make sure he did.

Hercules ended up volunteering, having jokingly been nominated the surrogate mother of the group. 

The night started out pretty fun, John had a two pints of Sam Adams and he was feeling a good buzz, though he was thoroughly frightened he would overdo his drinking, making tomorrow's English paper that much harder.

Alex obviously had no such inhibitions, after about his fourth pint basically dangling off of John muttering phrases the other man couldn't possibly conceive the meaning of.

Lafayette stumbled over to the two, wiggling his eyebrows at John (or at least John thought that was what he was trying to do), and muttering phrases in slurred french that got lost on John.

John thought it might be getting about time to head back to their dorms, when Lafayette grabbed his shoulder roughly. 

“Mon ami,” His breath smelled like whiskey. “Your first time drinking has to be special, no?”

John didn't like the mischievous edge creeping into his voice. “I don't know, I was thinking about calling it a night soon-” 

Lafayette didn't let him finish. “Shhh,” he prompted, “We should do shots.” He decided, though between his slurring and heavy accent, he could have said “we could shoot dots”, though John found that highly unlikely.

At some point Herc had popped in and collected Alexander, though where they had gone, John had no clue. He hoped Herc hadn't taken Alex home, because Herc was their ride.

“What do you say, Mon ami?” John had almost forgotten himself, getting lost in thought. “Like I said, I don't know, Gilbert, isn't there some rule against mixing alcohol?” John was sure he'd heard that somewhere.

“Nonsense! Bartender, ten shots of Vodka, straight. Let's see who can do five faster.” This still seemed like a really bad idea to John, but Gilbert had already ordered the shots, wasn't like he could do all ten by himself, right? 

John learned pretty quick that he was actually fair at taking shots. He’d managed to down his first three in the time Gilbert finished his first, and had finished his final when his friend was at three. 

Why stop there? He grabbed the last two shots from the bar and gulped them down. A small crowd of people had gathered to watch him, murmuring in amusement as he tried to figure out how he'd just gotten roped into taking seven shots in a row. He didn't have much time to worry though, because about at that point, all his shame and inhibitions disappeared, and the last thing he remembered was calling for a rematch against Gilbert. 

………..

The next day, John regretted everything. Down to that first innocent pint of Sam Adams.

He woke with a splitting headache, his alarm blaring in his ear.

He tried to sit up, but instead a groan just escaped his lips. He heard suppressed laughter from somewhere in the room.

He forced himself to sit up, turning off the alarm on his phone, just as his roommate approached with two blue gel capsules.

“You, are a godsend. Or a demon, for getting me to that bar in the first place.” As he swallowed the advil, Alex laughed again.

“How much did you drink? When I left you'd only had two pints, and you seemed pretty content.” Alex sat on the bed next to his friend, handing him a glass of water to chase the painkiller, which he promptly started chugging. 

“Hey hey, slow down. You’re gonna get drunk all over again,” Alex took the water, setting it on the nightstand.

John rested his head in his hands, trying to ignore the pounding. He shook his head disdainfully. “How do you do that?”

Alexander seemed a bit confused by the question. “Do what? You make it sound like I'm some kind of alcoholic who gets thrashed every night.” He joked.

John couldn't help but smile, though he feared if he laughed the movement might make his head fall off, so he opted for backtracking instead. “You're hungover, like, all the time. Laf too. How do you deal with that?”

Alex busted up, which surprised John, but he couldn't help think it was a little cute. “We know our limits.” Wait, had he just thought of Alex as cute? “Or rather, Hercules knows our limits. I heard rumors you were pounding vodka shots after two pints? You guys must've been wasted.” He emphasized by shaking his head. 

John frowned, trying to ignore the stampede over his brain. “Gilbert was with me… I don't remember much, maybe he knows what happened, you know, after the shot pounding.

Luckily, he knew his friends schedules as well as he knew his own, so he knew he could slip the Frenchman a text as he went to work on his English paper.

It was due today, and while he knew he shouldn't have put it off, it was his birthday; who wants to do homework on their birthday? 

As he texted him, he moved to open the window; gray clouds still dotted the sky, but they were beginning to break, rays of sunshine filtering through.

Maybe the weather would finally clear up.

To: French Fry  
Ayyy, how much you remember from last night?

With that text, he went to work on his paper, or rather, he sat at his desk for about two minutes, trying to comprehend the bright screen, before slipping quickly through the dorm to hurl in the toilet. Today was gonna be fun. 

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed at his bathroom floor beside him.

From: French Fry  
Nothing after shots, Mon ami. You?

Damn. That was unhelpful. Also, looking at the phone screen hurt his head more. He turned the brightness all the way down.

To: French Fry  
No better luck I'm afraid.

Well, now he'd have to go to work on his paper. His boring, lame homework paper, on the computer, which hurt his head to look at. Yikes.

 

He barely powered through the stupid paper in time for English, taking breaks every so often to hurl, after which he was supposed to have lunch with Gilbert, Herc and Alex.

He was not looking forward to being laughed at by all three of them.

His ears had taken to ringing slightly, and every sound felt like someone was stabbing his brain with tiny needles.

When he was heading to the restaurant, however, he felt a droplet of rain in his cheek.

He looked up and noticed the gloomy skies. Great, he thought, I'm gonna get rained on and laughed at.

He didn't think his friends would really laugh at him, not in sincerity.

No, it was all in good spirits, but he still allowed himself to be annoyed by it from time to time. 

When he reached the restaurant, the rain had begun to fall lightly, nothing more than a drizzle depriving the crew of sunlight.

He walked in and maneuvered to their table to find Gilbert by himself. That's odd, he thought. Alex was usually here ten minutes before the rest.

Quiet thunder rolled in the distance, and Hercules walked in a minute later,trudging to the table with an inquisitive look on his face. 

“Where's Alex?” He didn't seem necessarily worried about his friend's absence, more curious.

Both other students looked to John, who shrugged uncertainly. “He was in the dorm this morning. I…” He'd been too engrossed in his paper to pay his friend too much heed, though nothing had seemed particularly off.

He shook his head. “He's probably got some last minute paper he didn't do or something.” John offered.

Gilbert and Herc grumbled in agreement, though the unease was clear. Just in case, John shot his friend a text.

To: Glamilton   
Hey, you coming to lunch?

He tried his hardest to push his friend from his mind, which wasn’t hard - between the pounding in his head(which was worsened by the commotion in the restaurant), and Gilbert and Herc and him having a pleasant time, Alex mostly fell from his thoughts.

When he left the diner, it had stopped raining. Gray storm clouds hung low over the gloomy, puddle riddled streets.

When John reached his dorm, Alex wasn't there; this wasn't that odd, he often slipped away to the library or wherever else he spent his time.

John hung around the dorm for a while, hoping Alex might just show up, but to no avail, and John had classes to attend. 

Around six he ducked out again for his final two classes of the day.

John sat in history, watching the raindrops trace out little paths down the window, as thunder rolled in the distance. 

The rain had picked up more firmly this time, pelting the small bushes that lined the courtyard view out the window. 

Normally students were hanging around there all hours of the day - there was a big cement fountain whose bottom was littered with glinting coins people tended to hang out around - but now, it was completely deserted; the fountain overflowed with rainwater but produced none of its own.

Normally, John didn't mind the rain. He tended to find it soothing, the consistent pitter of raindrops tapping glass window panes, the dull rumble of thunder, and every so often a streak of white light lacing through the sky. 

Now though, it made him claustrophobic. He felt if he left, the storm would follow him. 

And the clouds had blocked out the sun for a good three days now, it seemed to be lowering everyone's spirits.

He didn't even notice the bell had rang, he'd been so lost in thought.

He made his way to the next class, anxious to get back to his dorm.

Why he felt the need to be there right now remained a mystery to him. Perhaps it was the storm, making him uncomfortable, maybe he wanted to be somewhere familiar… 

That didn't seem right, but it was the best he had, so he went with it.

 

After the last class he was pacing quickly back to his dorm when his phone buzzed.

From: French Fry  
Have you seen ham?

John frowned. 

To: French Fry  
No y do u ask

He didn't have to wait long for a response. 

From: French Fry  
Were doing a project 2gether. Supposed to work on it 2day, bt hams not answering his phone

That was odd.

To:French Fry  
Im heading back 2 the dorm now. Txt u when I get there?

Okay, whatever, Alex sometimes got so enveloped in projects he didn't answer his phone. No big deal. He'd be at the dorm when John got back - if he wasn't, he was just at the library - and everything would be fine.

From: French Fry  
K, text me if u find him

Only when he was gasping for air did John realize he'd picked up to a ridiculous pace.

Forcing himself to slow down he tried to steady his heartbeat. He didn't know why this was bothering him so much.

When he reached the room he fumbled for the door.

Rain slammed the open window and John cursed himself for forgetting about that.

“Alex?” John called hesitantly, as he moved to close the window.

God, the wind was crazy outside, ripping and whistling off the window, making it rather difficult to force it shut.

Luckily, it looked like nothing valuable had been in the line of fire.

Then something else occurred to him; why hadn't Alex been back all day? If he had been, he would have closed the open window, right? Having seen the storm impending.

Panic began to well in John's chest. He decided to text Alex again. He knew he had no right to worry, Alex was an adult, like John, he could take care of himself. Still, a bad taste crept up John's throat threatening to make him nauseous.

To: Glamilton  
Yo where you been all day? Shoot me a text?

John wasn't usually one for proper punctuation in text messages, but he'd chosen his words carefully.

Ten minutes passed. No response. That was fine, he had a life outside the college, probably. He could be at some party for all John knew.

To: Glamilton   
Man I'm starting to freak you've been gone since this morning? What's going on? 

He tried to steady his heartbeat. He did the breathing exercise, in, two, three, four, out, two, three, four.

He waited fifteen minutes.

Still no response.

He decided to call him.

To Johns relief, he picked up on the second ring, as if he’d been waiting.

“Thank - I mean - Alex, where are you? I've been trying to get a hold of you all day! First you missed lunch, and then you weren't at the dorm afterward, and then you weren't at the dorm when I got back from class, and then you didn't answer your phone-” John was cut off by what might’ve been called a whimper from Alex.

It was so quiet he barely heard it over the line and the thunder rolling outside.

He paused, realising his hands were beginning to shake. 

“Alex?” Tentative, cautious, and unsure.

No response. 

John glanced at his phone to make sure the line wasn't dead.

He was about to speak again when Alex spoke up from the other end of the line.

“I'm fine, John. Don't- don't worry about me.”

The way his voice sounded told a rather different story.

It was raspy, quiet, and his voice cracked on the last word.

Alexander Hamilton was scared. 

And for whatever reason, that infuriated John. 

What could have been so bad it could break down the strongest person John knew?

“Alex,” He began slowly. “Where are you?” Simple enough question, worthy of a straight up answer.

For a moment there we no words on the line, only shaky breathing, and John couldn't figure if it was Alex’s or his own bouncing off the flat screen of his phone. 

“Alex,” He repeated, a little more sternness in his voice.

“Bathroom. Down the hall.” His voice sounded so miserable, so broken that it made John cringe.

After he gave up his location he promptly hung up.

John took a shaky breath, Collecting himself.

Obviously Alex was having some sort of breakdown, that much was apparent.

But had it lasted all day? Had the whole day been one long panic attack?

The more John thought I'm thought about it the more anxious he was to get to Alex.

 

He reached the bathroom down the hall and saw one stall was occupied.

He knocked tentatively on the metal, and the latch clicked from the inside.

Shit.

That was John's first thought.

After unlocking the door Alex had recoiled to the fetal position, hugging his knees to his chest and shaking his head pointedly at john. 

“I don't - you don't have to be here.”

He wouldn't meet his friends gaze.

John had to take a moment to process what he said.

Alex didn't want him here? No, that didn't seem right. That wasn't what he said.

“What?” Was all he managed.

Thunder roared in the window and Alex flinched, hugging his knees tighter.

John just stared in disbelief, piecing together what had happened today. 

“The storm…” He muttered. “You're afraid of the storm.” Of course he hadn't meant it teasing - he would never tease Alex - but that was how it came out.

Alex looked like he was about to say something else when lightning flashed in the small window behind John, and instead he buried his face in his knees.

John wasn't sure where his justification came from - helping his friend, the rage that boiled under his skin that made him want to tear the thunderstorm from the sky, or momentary insanity - but he sat down next to Alex and wrapped his arms around him.

At first, the smaller man tensed at the touch, then he seemed to lean into the embrace.

They sat like that for a minute, before Alex shook his head and pushed away from his friend - to John's dismay - huffing in an annoyed fashion.

“No you don’t just -” Whatever Alex was gonna say stopped short when thunder rumbled loudly and he squeezed his eyes shut.

A few moments later, when he opened them again, there was such a mix of emotion - anger, hurt, sadness, desperation, anxiety - that John was taken aback.

It was only visible for a second though before he blinked back to a steely resolve, setting his jaw defiantly.

“You don't have to feel sorry for me, John. There’s no -”

Thunder rolled, more intense now, even enough that John felt the floor vibrate, and Alex pinched his eyes shut again, digging his nails into his pants and burying his face in his knees once more.

John shook his head. “Is that what you think this is about? Pity? Alex - how could you even - after everything -”

Lightning flashed, lighting up the bathroom.

Alex was trembling, though whether it was from fear, or anger, or anxiety, John couldn't be sure.

“Let's go back to the dorm room.” John coaxed gently, all frustration dissipated from his tone.

Alex sighed, exasperation clear in his voice.

He said something but it was muffled by his legs and cut short by a sob.

Yes, a sob.

John's best friend was crying, right in front of him, and there was nothing he could do to help.

He gently placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder, and was immediately shrugged off.

Alex looked up to meet his eyes and for a moment - just a second - anger flashed red hot, like he was about to say something, before the next wave of thunder shook the building. 

That was weird.

All of the anger disappeared and was replaced by something so much worse.

This was the first time John had ever seen that look in anyone's eyes.

A fear so intense it shook John just looking at him. 

This was a look of unrivaled, incomparable terror.

But again, it was there for only seconds before Alex buried his head in his knees again, sobs beginning to rack his body.

John was amazed and disturbed by how quickly his friend seemed to be switching emotions.

John decided he wouldn't lay on the bathroom floor all light with Alex. That wouldn't solve anything.

John stood, and Alex’s head lifted. “Don't leave!” He said it so quickly, he seemed uncertain himself why he'd made the request, and then buried his head again, shaking it.

John crouched down, resting a hand on Alex’s shoulder and this time he didn't protest.

“I'm not leaving you,” John promised. “But I'm also not spending the night on the bathroom floor. We should go back to the dorm room.”

Thunder shook the building again, and Alex’s trembling intensified - if that was possible.

He didn't stand though.

After a few moments, his shoulders slumped (as much as they can when you're sitting in a ball). “Go ahead back to the dorm.” He mumbled into his knees. “I'm fine.” 

John could not believe he was hearing this. “Seriously?”

Alex didn't budge in response. Just kept trembling.

As he stood the rest of the way, John couldn't help but notice how small Alex looked in this moment. How… Fragile.

“If you don't - or can't - get up and come with me, so help me Alexander Hamilton I will pick you up and carry you there.”

Alex just shook his head from the floor, not moving.

Thing is, John wasn't kidding. “All right, if that's the way it's gonna be.” With extreme care, he knelt down and wrapped his arms around Alex, so as to carry him bridal style. 

Alex yelped in surprise when John picked him up, but he didn't exactly protest.

He stared in awe at John who used all his self control not to lean down and kiss him…

Wait, he thought, where did that come from? 

Shaking his head clear he stepped out the bathroom door. 

Thunder clapped again and this time Alex burrowed into John's chest, and John hoped the smaller man couldn't hear his heart pick up at the touch.

Stop that, he thought, annoyed with himself.

After what seemed like forever, he managed to make it to their dorm room. 

As soon as John set him down Alex recoiled from his friend (which hurt John's chest, for some stupid reason), and went back to shaking, now at least on the edge of his own bed.

John sat down next to his friend, and Alex made a sound resembling letting air out of a balloon.

John shook his head (for the 50th time that night) and crossed his arms.

“Whine all you want I'm not leaving you alone.”

Alex shot him a glare, but the next thunderclap had him drawing his knees back to his chest and beginning to rock again.

John didn't know what to do.

Maybe he was being invasive? Maybe his friend needed some alone time, and John was slowing the process by staying with him? What if he was making it worse?

While John was mulling over these thoughts in his head, a cold hand slipped into his.

It took him a minute to realize Alex was leaning toward him, whether consciously or subconsciously, John had no clue.

He hesitated, thunder clapped, and just like that the moment was gone. Alex pulled his hand back to himself, wrapping it around his knees, and began rocking more furiously.

John didn't give himself time to hesitate, wonder if he would come to regret this, he just went for it; he repositioned himself so he was behind Alexander, wrapping his arms around him and intertwining their fingers.

There was a moment of panic when Alex didn't react immediately. 

He stopped rocking, that was a good sign.

Then, a moment later, he relaxed into John's embrace.

They sat like that for a while, Alex’s shaky breathing slowly evening out, but it would catch again every time thunder or lightening struck.

His entire body tensed with every fluctuation in the weather. It was painful, heartwrenching even, to see him like this.

And only now did it really begin to sink in… This was real. Alex had shared with John probably his most embarrassing part of him, maybe not completely by volunteering, but still.

John was beginning to doze off when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Alex shifted slightly, allowing John to reach for his phone (at least he was coherent enough for little things like that).

Six missed messages

From: French Fry

John silently cursed himself; he'd totally forgotten about texting Gilbert.

He checked quickly and realized the time was creeping up on midnight.

With a slight sigh he began to scroll through the messages.

From: French Fry  
Hey, did you find him?

From: French Fry  
I’ll take that as a no?

From: French Fry  
Are you alright?

From: French Fry  
Don't try to message me back or anything, I don't worry.

From: French Fry  
Okay, seriously, you holding up okay?

From: French Fry  
You better text me back!

“Shit…” John muttered under his breath.

“What?” Alex’s voice was so small, all his earlier anger gone, replaced by… Almost fragility. That wasn't quite right though. 

“I was supposed to text Gilbert when I found you…” He felt bad about forgetting, but at the same time, he figured Gilbert would understand the circumstances. 

Alex got really quiet.

John paused. Something about that didn't seem right. Something about the way his breath caught…

John was about to press him, when Alex uncurled from his ball and turned over, so he could lay face down on John's chest.

Then he began to sob again.

John muttered soothingly, he began playing with Alex’s hair, and shot Gilbert a text saying Alex was okay and he'd explain later.

Alex’s hands were tucked under his face, his shoulders tight as sobs racked his body.

John felt horrible, and helpless.

He readjusted so Alex’s face was in the crook of his neck rather than the middle of his chest, and he wrapped his arms around him.

It wasn't anything weird, just as the thunder clapped and rolled, as Alex showed his most vulnerable, John refused to turn a blind eye.

There would definitely be discussion about that later, but for now, Alex needed to breathe, and quite frankly, John didn't mind the touch one little bit.

 

The next day, John woke up confused.

He was warm on one side, like someone had put a heating blanket over one side of him. 

It took him a full minute to realize that that ‘blanket’ was his best friend.

Still sound asleep, Alex had one arm draped over John's chest, and he was pressed up against him, clinging to John like a lifeboat.

And it felt so nice, he was warm and soft and he looked so peaceful sleeping, his hair sprawled in all directions, a contented smile on his lips…

Snap out of it! He told himself, harshly. That is no way to think about your best friend. He scolded.

Nonetheless, it wasn't like he could leave.

He couldn't move without risking waking Alex up, and after all he'd been through last night, John didn't have the heart to do that.

Besides, it was nice to see him like this; relaxed, peaceful, not quite so on guard as he always seemed to be.

His big pretty eyes, closed softly, his cheeks carving the smile with his whole face, his lips...

John quickly dismissed the thought, how dare he even think it.

As if on cue, Alex’s brow furrowed, and he blinked his eyes open.

His smile disappeared, and John cursed himself for how long it took him to peel his gaze from his friend’s lips.

Alex rolled off the bed abruptly, a worried furrow to his brow.

Uh-oh, John thought, this is it.

“I-I have class. What time is it?” Alex glanced at Johns hands as he searched for his phone, the floor, his own hands, looking anywhere but John's face.

Yep, he fucked up.

John didn't want to think about how Alex was going to react to John wanting to talk.

As said before, John knew all his friends schedules like he knew his own, and he knew that, on Tuesday, Alex didn't have class till noon.

“It’s only nine, Alex please, wait.” John rubbed his eyes, trying to erase any last traces of sleep from them.

Alex gave him a look, though John wasn't sure how to translate it - Sympathy? Sadness? Wistfulness? - before shaking his head.

“John,” His voice was firm, not inviting contradiction - the voice he used in cabinet meetings - not at all like the voice he'd spoken with last night. “Please.” This was similar to the night before, but still something different about it - more certain.

Alex glanced nervously at the window, rain still drizzling down the glass.

John’s eyes fell to the floor. “I won't push you,” He steadied his voice carefully. “But you can talk to me - about anything.” 

Eyes still fixed on the floor, John couldn't see Alex’s face, but he heard him leave the room.

John didn't move for a solid minute and a half.

He picked over everything that happened last night, wondering if he'd made Alex uncomfortable…

His hands worked almost without his knowledge, and before he knew it, he was calling Hercules.

One ring before he answered.

“Hello?” Herc’s voice rang from the other side.

Suddenly John didn't know why he called Hercules. He couldn't tell him what happened, that was a HUGE invasion of his best friends privacy. No way.

But at the same time, it was Herc…

“John? Did you buttdial me again? Because I swear to God-”

“No,” John managed to choke out. “It wasn't a buttdial but I…”

Herc paused, “Did you find Alexander last night?”

John thought he might cry. What was he doing? “Yeah… Yes, Alexander is fine but… Never mind. Bye.” He hung up before Herc could object.

He paced restlessly in his dorm for about another half hour, during which time his phone went off several times.

After a while he decided to sit down and check it.

He had nine messages this time; four from Herc and five from Gilbert.

From: French Fry  
Hey u survive the night lol

From: French Fry  
Seriously tho what happened?

From: French Fry  
Herc said u called him….??

From: French Fry  
BOII Y U NEVER ANSWER YO PHONE 

From: French Fry  
THATS IT IM COMING OVER

From: Manumission Abolitionist  
What was that?

From: Manumission Abolitionist  
Where’s Alexander?

From: Manumission Abolitionist  
Are you okay?

From: Manumission Abolitionist  
I'm gonna let Lafayette go to your dorm if you don't answer.

“Ugh,” He didn't even have the energy to argue with them at this point, and thus flopped down on his bed to wait (not Alex’s bed, where he'd been last night). 

So, when Gilbert did walk straight into his dorm (since when did he have a key?) he made no effort whatsoever to stand and greet him.

The Frenchman immediately started cussing in French, something about worrying and his phone, and then took one look at John and stopped in his tracks.

“Mon ami, you look like shit.” He said very eloquently.

John only grunted in response, rolling off of the bed and lazily standing. 

Gilbert looked him up and down, as if trying to deduce his emotional problems from his tear stained shirt (Note; those weren't even his tears…).

When he had finished his once over, he looked at John sympathetically. 

“Don't start that.” He knew what was coming and he didn't want to hear it.

Gilbert tsked at him. “Ah, but Mon ami, perhaps that is exactly what you need.”

John gave him a look.

Gilbert just rolled his eyes. “What happened?” He started simply. Then, glancing around the room, added, “And where is Alexander?”

John scowled. “That's what I was trying to say; I can't tell you. It isn't my business to tell. So you can't help me. Not with this one, Gilbert.” 

“Please do not call me that,” the Frenchman whined.

“The rest of us go by our first names, so why should you be exempt?” John was glad for the change of subject.

Gilbert made a pouty face that made him look disturbingly like another student - Jefferson - whom John was not fond of. “I'm french. Titles work differently in France.”

“Bullshit. You're in America. Now, you can adopt American ways. You can go by your first name, Gilbert.”

Gilbert looked like an angry tomato. “Gilbert isn't even my first name!” He pointed out, annoyed.

John paused. “Wait, it's not?”

Just then Alex unlocked the door, stepping into the dorm. His eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks shiny, but he had a determined expression on his face - faltering only when he saw Gilbert (Not Gilbert?).

“Oh… Hi,” He tried his best to look his normal, goofy self, but that's kinda hard when it's really obvious you've been crying.

Gilbert gave John one last look, before turning to Alex. “I see you two have stuff to discuss.” He nodded to them each, and was gone.

As soon as he was gone, John moved forward and wrapped his arms around Alex.

He hugged him super tight, for a good amount of time, before he let go.

Alex looked confused, to say the least.

He quickly shook that off, however, and returned to his determined expression. 

“I've been thinking,” Uh-oh, no good sentence starts with ‘I've been thinking’. “It wasn't… Fair, of me, to act like I did last night-” 

“Alex you were scared, don't-”

“-Let me finish. I know… I know you feel bad, or whatever, if it's pity or obligation, I guess. Because we're friends- I need you to know that whatever it is, whatever reason you had to stay with me last night, I don't want you to feel that obligation. I don't want to be that burden. I need you to know that, if something like that happens again, you'll be able to walk away. Without feeling guilty, without feeling like you've broken some commitment - you never signed up to be my caregiver, and I'll be damned if I made you feel some obligation to me.”

John had no idea how to respond. His mind was completely garbled.”Are you serious?”

Alex looked taken aback. “What-?”

“You think I stayed with you out of pity last night? Because I was obligated to help you? That is the biggest load I've ever heard! The idea, as preposterous as it is, doesn't even hold a candle to the idea that I would, ever, under any circumstances, leave you like that? Or- or- or leave you at all, for that matter! What kind of horseshit is running through your head that makes you think that I could ever leave you?” John hadn't realized it at first, but as he'd spoken he'd inched closer to Alexander so he was now less than a foot away.

“But… Everyone else did…”

“‘Everyone else’? That's the argument you're going with? Do I look like ‘everyone else’ to you, Alexander?!” He hadn't meant to raise his voice but it was ever so slightly louder than intended.

Alex was now inches away and John could feel his breath. John could swear Alex’s gaze fell ever so slightly.

“That’s not what I meant…” It’s a mumble, almost apologetic, but not quite.

Alex moved past John to sit on his bed. He didn’t object when John followed him carefully.

“It’s not just some random… It wasn’t circumstance, or anything like that, storms…” Alex shook his head, clearly trying to gather his thoughts.

“You don’t have to tell me.” John wanted to help his friend, but the way he watched his hands, fiddling with the bedsheets, it made John nervous; Alex had always been the type to stand straight up, confront any problem head on, not afraid of what people thought.

Alex shook his head, running a hand through his hair. His gaze stayed glued to his lap, but he continued. “When I- when I was a kid, on Nevis, there- I was-” He shook his head, more reproachfully toward himself.

This was another thing that was off-putting; Alex had always been a wizard with words, no matter the situation, he could talk his way out of it.

He took a shaky breath, and John realized he was holding back tears. “There was a storm - a bad storm - and I just… Everyone, all the people I’d grown up around-” His voice cracked, and he shielded his eyes from John’s view. “I’m sorry I don’t-”

John scooted closer, putting an arm around Alex, who seemed hesitant.

He drew another shaky breath, and John could hear him counting carefully. “It was a hurricane. I was- I was alone, completely alone, so alone and I couldn’t seem to just…” He started sobbing again.

He started to stand. “I’m sorry John, I didn’t mean for-”

John kept his arm around his friend’s shoulder though, keeping him from standing up. “Alex…” He hadn’t planned on saying anything, but the name came out with such strong conviction that his roommate sat back down, as tears began to streak his face, despite his best efforts to wipe them away before they could.

Alex finally met his eyes. “Everyone died. Except me. I couldn’t die.” The last part was racked with sobs as his head fell back into his hands.

John pulled Alex toward him, so he was virtually in his lap. The weather had picked back up outside, so rain pounded the window, but it all seemed far away.

John tried to put together what his friend had said, as Alex slumped into his embrace.

“And anyone - the people who didn’t die? They left. They left and they never came back.”  
Whatever reservations he’d had about telling John seemed to slip away as he was virtually in his lap. “Because everyone leaves. Eventually, you’re going to leave, Lafayette is going to leave, Hercules is going to leave -” That last part held an edge of bitterness, but he couldn’t be blamed.

“Alex- Alexander, hey,” John readjusted, so he could see Alexander’s face again. “Listen; I am never leaving, you hear? I don’t plan on dying anytime soon either. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.” Thunder rolled outside, and Alexander still didn’t meet his gaze. He was clearly unconvinced. “Herc and Gilbert? You’re stuck with them too; they do care.”

One thing was clear though; he was tired. He slumped against John’s chest, a look on his face John wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“Alexander, you should go to sleep.” He suggested.

Alex flashed him a look, but it didn’t last long, instead he sighed. “You’re probably right.” He muttered. 

John moved so Alex was lying on the bed instead of on him, but he didn’t move from the bed. He sat at the edge, and absentmindedly started playing with Alexander’ hair.

Soon enough, despite his greatest effort, John drifted of himself.

 

When he awoke, Alex was gone from the bed. John’s first thought was that Alex had disappeared again; avoiding an unpleasant confrontation. John allowed himself to be frustrated by that, scanning the side of the room he could see from where he lay on the bed.

He rolled slightly, planning on getting up, only to find that Alexander was still very much there.

He had gotten out of bed, but he sat on the floor. At first John thought he might be freaking out again, but he wasn’t trembling. 

His head was down, and bobbing slightly, but he didn’t look stressed out.

It took John’s half asleep brain a moment to figure out; Alex was wearing earbuds. Soft music hummed from one earbud that was not in his ear, but his hand, as he typed on his phone keyboard.

“Alexander,” John sat up, rubbing his eyes. 

Alex looked up, a small smile forming on his lips. Despite the uncertainty behind the gesture, his eyes glimmered in a good way.

John moved to face Alex, laying on the bed with his chin propped up on his hands, legs kicking freely in the space behind him.

“Morning.” Alex greeted.

“You’re in a good mood.” John noted, though regretted his words as Alexander’s smile faltered. “And you’ve every reason to be.” He quickly amended.

Alex quirked an eyebrow, a playful glimmer in his eye. “Oh?”

John paused, “Did you know that Lafayette’s first name isn’t Gilbert?” It was something he hadn’t thought about since it’d been said, but it still weirded him out to think about.

“What?” Alex laughed slightly.

“Yeah. He told me the other day. What do you think it is?”

Alex shook his head, still laughing. “That’s so random! And actually I did know that though.”

John hesitated. “Wait, am I the only one out of the loop? Do you know what it is?” He smiled now too.

Alex’s uncertainty melted away, replaced by a comedic smile. “Marie.”

John opened his mouth, but no words came out. “You’re shitting me.” He said eventually.

“Well, technically it’s Marie-Joseph - it’s hyphenated.” John was absolutely certain that wasn’t how that was supposed to be used, but Alexander’s triumphant smile upon revealing the information was enough reason to let that slide.

John rolled off the bed, moving to sit next to Alexander on the floor. “What were you doing down here before I woke up anyway?” He decided to ask.

Alex’s gaze broke from John’s for a moment, returning quickly. “I - I couldn’t stay asleep, so I started writing...” This wasn’t right. Alexander’s eyes were too intense, like he was trusting John with some vital piece of information. “Besides,” He continued, a playful edge returning to his voice. “You’re a cover hog.” He pointed to the bunched up mess of blanket where John had been sleeping.

John couldn’t help flush slightly at that (namely thinking about sleeping in the same bed as Alexander), but he shoved his friend playfully anyway.

Alex laughed again, this time his shoulders seemed to relax, and he glanced at the window behind John’s head - sunlight was filtering through - before meeting his roommate’s eyes again.

John’s eyes, however, wouldn’t stay on Alexander’s eyes; against his adamant willpower, they moved downward a smidge, settling on his mouth.

When he realized this mistake, of course, he immediately met Alex’s eyes, except that Alex wasn’t looking at John’s eyes either.

John had one second to turn bright red, before soft lips planted themselves on his. His world sharpened; suddenly the sunlight seared through his clothes and burned his skin, the colors were all sharper, brighter, and he was painfully aware of the silence filling the dorm.

Alex pulled back, and the small smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes, which were uncertain.

John grinned, before lurching forward and kissing Alexander.

Luckily, unlike his slow self, Alex responded immediately, returning the passionate kiss.

The two stayed like that for a long while, until they had to pull away and catch their breath.

Alex (the thick-headed idiot) still searched John’s expression nervously.

John met his eyes and smiled warmly, and the nervousness dissipated almost immediately, replaced by a smug grin.

“Took you long enough.” Alex teased.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo cute fluffy ending to make up for your suffering - or MY suffering rather hehe


End file.
